The Sailor in the Storm
The sailor knew the sea.
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Both the calm days and the stormy ones.
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But the storm that day was different.
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The sky sank into darkness.
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The wind let out a roar.
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The waves rose up like walls.
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The sailor gripped the helm.
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The feel of wood in his hands.
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The swaying deck beneath his feet.
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The rain lashing against his face.
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"It's coming."
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The wave lifted the ship.
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Higher, and higher.
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And then, it fell.
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The sailor's body floated.
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But his hands did not let go of the helm.
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"Don't let go."
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The sailor told himself.
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Another wave came.
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The ship creaked.
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The sails shook as if they were about to tear.
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The sailor's heart was filled with fear.
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“We might sink just like this.”
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But,
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his hands were gripping the rudder.
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“I cannot stop the storm.”
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The sailor thought to himself.
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“But I can hold the rudder.”
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The waves came again and again.
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The sailor was tossed about time and time again.
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Yet, time and again, I gripped the helm once more.
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My hands grew sore,
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my arms went numb,
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and my legs trembled.
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But,
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I did not let go.
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How much time had passed?
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The wind eased a little.
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The waves grew a little lower.
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Light shone down from the sky.
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The sailor was still gripping the helm.
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His hands would no longer move.
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But he was still gripping it.
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Before long,
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the storm passed.
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The sea became calm once again.
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The sailor slowly let go of the helm.
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The mark of the helm remained on his palm.
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Deeply.
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The sailor looked at that mark.
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"The storm could not be stopped."
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"But, I could hold the rudder."
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The sailor encountered many more storms after that.
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When a storm came,
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he would hold the rudder.
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The marks on his palms never faded.
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But, every time the sailor looked at them,
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he remembered.
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"The storm cannot be stopped. But, the rudder can be held."
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The sea is still there today.
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Through calm days and stormy ones.
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The sailor is still holding the helm today.
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Quietly.
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(End)